


This is real and you are here to stay

by PointBlank007



Series: Winter's Wolf Haven [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Bucky Barnes Feels, Gen, McCall Pack, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Pack Bonding, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Mom Melissa McCall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PointBlank007/pseuds/PointBlank007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had never had the best of luck, that was always cemented by the times he had found himself accidentally facing the big bad of that week. He also had a knack for picking up strays. If you put those two together, well let's just say Stiles might have found a new pack member.<br/>or<br/>The one where hunters come to Beacon Hills despite Chris’ warnings to do otherwise and try to kidnap Stiles only to be saved by a hobo with a metal arm. Stiles in his infinite flailing kindness ends up taking him home and adopting a sort of amnesiatic russian spyassassin.<br/>“</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro to Stiles

Stiles Stilinski was in the best of cases a menace to society, at the worst he was someone you didn’t want to mess with. With Derek’s return to Beacon Hills after a short lived relationship with Braeden that ended in amicable terms the McCall pack established itself as the protector of the small town and leading pack in California.

Deaton had officially become their emissary and Stiles was the Human Second while Derek was the Werewolf Second, both equal in terms of influence inside the pack, in interpack relations with other supernatural creatures and the humans in the know outside and inside the town.

Their triumph over the dread Doctors had made it very clear that they were not to be trifled with.

That was not to say that there weren’t still some beings -human and supernatural alike- who were foolish enough to try and challenge them for the territory or the glory.

Even so the mishap that happened most recently had not been Stiles fault and they had not meant to do harm to him or any of the pack; it had been simply a matter of politics.

Forest faeries had held Stiles in court for close to a week, they were beings of nature and were being drawn to the power of the revived Nemeton, the magic of the tree approved of the werewolf pack that protected the town it resided in but it had chosen Stiles as its conductor. As the proxy of one of the two active Nemetons in North America he was the only one with a sense of the Ley lines the Faeries needed to take root in the forest. So of course when they arrived to town they had lead Stiles to Court so a deal would be made; to him it only took a few hours and he had secured a deal with them; letting them take root in their territory in exchange for aid in protecting the forest and a few lessons in magic.

The pack had been reluctant to let him wander around in his own after he reappeared with a shiny new seal branded in his shoulder; even after he had explained them that the somewhat odd looking winged beings that held him had not meant to take so long.

That little incident was six months ago, during which they had enjoyed a time of no trouble beyond the typical skirmishes inside the town and the meeting between the Cali packs.

Of course with their luck something had been bound to go wrong sooner or later. Said trouble came in the form of non-Argent hunters who believe the McCall pack had become too powerful to continue their ‘reign’.

Chris had of course tried to run interference, that didn’t work. 

The pack made preparations, the faeries kept a steady watch and the rest of Beacon Hills were clued in by the Sheriff to beware of stranger coming into town. Half the town knew about the shit that went down on a regular basis and the other half at least suspected that something was amiss, nevertheless all of BH had faith in their Sheriff and his deputies.

It was on the day that Stiles was supposed to go and reinforce the wards he had placed around the perimeter of the in-the-process-of-being-rebuilt Hale house that he was ambushed by a horde of hunters.

They all sported an assortment of weapons so varied that cluster-fuck couldn’t even begin to cover it. From his position in the center of their camp he could see knives, guns, swords, bombs all in different materials and colors; some infused with herbs or other substances that were nocive to the supernatural.

To any other person this would be intimidating, this abundance of weapons could send that message that they were ready to face anything that the pack could launch at them.

To Stiles this told the exact opposite story, such a varied and haphazard collection of weapons could only mean that they had no idea what they were going up against, these hunters had grabbed everything they could in hopes that it would be enough to kill them all. This spoke of poor planning and opposition among the hunter ranks.

Besides they had made the biggest mistake of them all, the only thing stopping the young human from leaving the camp was a steel collar around his neck, said collar was bound with a thick chain to convenient tree in the middle of the clearing the men had made their camp in. He had no doubt this seemingly perfect camping spot had been work of the faeries, the pack was surely on their way right about now.

That wasn’t to say he couldn’t get out on his own but this was much more advantageous to them, he could disarm and neutralize the weapons with his magic and then let the pack force them to retreat without their loot. Deaton will have a field day with all the stuff he will be able to fashion from this.

Stiles was momentarily distracted by movement in the bushes, a glimpse of metal was all he could see before the camp was reduced to shouts and shots as a man with a metal arm decimated the hunters.

As fast as he could he sent pulse after pulse of energy, rapidly making the guns unusable and the knives dull. Not his finest work but he was in a hurry.

All that was left to know was… who was this dude with the shiny arm and hobo hair?

-x-x-x-

 


	2. Feel Safe Dude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see James side of the story and Stiles sees the man inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was made in the span of 1 hour and 2 am so pardon any spelling or grammar mistake.

**Chapter 2- Feel Safe Dude**

James Buchanan Barnes was a hunted man, he had been running away from people ever since the incident in DC. Hydra wanted him back to enslave him again, SHIELD wanted him to make him pay for crimes he didn’t remember, The Black Widow hunted him for her own ends and Captain Rogers hunted him to bring back a man that did not exist anymore.

The last few months after the fiasco that was DC his memories of being Bucky had been resurfacing, opposite of bringing back the man they just showed him that he had not been Bucky for a very long time, long before  HYDRA had gotten a hold of him even; war had a way of changing a man. Steve was always ignorant of the change, his unwavering optimism refused to let him accept it, but he could see it when he told stories of them growing up to the commandos and they would sometimes look at him as if they could not relate the soldier sitting next to them to the man in the stories.

Of course James was  known for his flirting personality but that was the only similarity between the man in the field and the man in the stories.

Bucky was innocent, he enjoyed getting in trouble with his best friend Steve and his devil may care attitude had gotten him in more tight spots that he had been willing to admit. Bucky had a mischievous smirk born of pranks and relative peace.

Sergeant Barnes was burdened with death and responsibility, he enjoyed the quiet nights when he knew that his squadron was safe for the night, his devil may care attitude had to be caged in order to keep his men safe. Sergeant Barnes had a mischievous smirk born of knowing information that the enemy would never get their hands on because it was all in his head.

The differences were staggering, Bucky Barnes had been dead for years and all that remained was James. He was okay with that, he could live as James but the Captain would never accept it; so he ran.

All those who hunted him were dead set on finding him abroad, so he hid inside their territory. Along backroads and national parks where he could hunt and live of the land.

It was during his trek through the californian forest near a small town that he caught sight of the men with arms and angry muttering.

They were not the people who were hunting him so his long buried curiosity reared its head in, it convinced him to follow them.

_ It’s not like they have noticed you anyway  _ it said.

He followed them for close to an hour as they headed deeper into the forest. At last they stopped in front of a house in the middle of being constructed, James wondered if they were some sort of extreme environmentalist in the process of sabotaging this construction when another set of footfalls entered the clearing and all the guns turned and pointed to the newly arrived teenager in front of them.

The teen frowned at them but did not seem overly surprised at the group of armed men and women pointing their guns at him. If anything he looked annoyed even muttering under his breath something along the lines of  _ Derek will never let me live this down. _

Clearly the name Derek agitated the rest of the group and they tensed before one shouted at the boy to walk in the direction from where they came from.

The trek back to the their base camp was uneventful and once there they chained the boy to a tree with a chain around his neck, they were treating the kid like some sort of animal and that was not sitting well with James; he had been treated like an animal for years. James took a back seat and the Winter Soldier came back for this mission.

The Soldier did away with them all in every painful and non-lethal way that he knew, some would ever be able to even hold a gun again. As he was spinning and punching all of the new enemies he felt a sort of energy hum around him. Knives that he was sure would have made slashes in his body, were blunted and fragile; guns jammed and fell apart.

The kid looked scared and oddly calm.

Once all of the enemy were neutralized the hum retreated to the epicenter of the clearing, where the teen was still chained. Tacking In the form that had not moved ever since they had chained him there he could see fear but also a comforting amount of trust in this seemingly harmless kid. 

“S’okay… all down no dead” his vocabulary had gotten more extensive the more of his memories he recovered but it would take him awhile to go back to normal human speech, even if his own internal monologues had gotten increasingly complicated. The teen’s eyes roamed him for a second with too old eyes; all of a sudden the hum came back, this time it surrounded him entirely. James tensed for a second before he realized that the hum was relaxing his muscles, pain from old injuries and the deep set of cold in his bones was being steadily drained out of his body. 

James realized for the first time in years that he felt completely at ease.

“Feel Safe” was all he could mutter before sleep took him, this time without nightmares or memories interrupting it.

**x-x-x-x-x-x**

After the shouting had died down Stiles allowed his magic to simmer down to a low buzz underneath his skin, this hobo dude had amazingly subdued a group of semi-good hunters in a span of 10 minutes. Whoever he was he knew how to fight and that fact that he had somewhat saved Stiles did not mean he was an ally.

The long haired man was left standing in the middle of the clearing, was panting with the sudden effort he must have forced upon his body; the teen could see signs of dehydration and malnutrition as well as abuse all along the man’s body.

As if suddenly pulled to the present the man’s eyes jerked to him and took stock of his condition, some of the instinctual fear that still managed to make itself known with each big bad must have shown in his face because some of the rough lines of the weathered man smoothed down, his eyes lost the steely edge and gained a more calming look. It somehow reminded Stiles of Derek on the days where they had not know each other that well, when the man had pretended not to care.

“S’okay… all down no dead” even the man’s voice was bruised, as if unused for years, his vocabulary was limited and from that little sentence Stiles knew all he needed to know. Years of abuse was the cause of this and his heart went out to the hobo dude.

Sometimes his own magic acted without his consent, it was a trait that Deaton had found most curious, as he was a human he did not have a pack bond as strong as the bond shared between the wolves; his magic took care of that. When he was hurt the Ley lines shared a bit of their energy so that he could heal faster, if he was near someone who was hurt his magic called him to help; lot of mothers liked him because of that. His magic was a form of protection for him and those whom it deemed had to be protected, it seemed now that his magic had claimed this man as someone to protect because it began to curl around the man with the metal arm like a blanket.

Hobo dude seemed to sense the change as he tensed like a bow string before relaxing as the magic comforted him and healed his pains.

“Feel safe” was murmured before he slumped bonelessly, his magic cushioning his fall and laying him down gently onto the ground.

The collar around his neck snapped as he stood up and made his way to the slumbering man, he was classically handsome if he does say so himself. With a strong jawline and chestnut colored hair; a long bath and a little shaving would do him wonders not just physically wise but emotionally, having some creature comforts was always good in the face of trauma, Stiles should know.

“Yeah dude, you are safe now”

Stiles stood up, sensing the arrival of the rest of the pack. It was time to deal with the hunters laying around in the ground.

**-x-x-x-x-**


	3. Soldier boy wake up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long wait and somewhat short chapter but I figured this was better than nothing

Chapter Three: Soldier boy wake up

 

After the fiasco that had been the mass beating of hunters in the forest, Stiles began preparing to greet the rest of the pack. The hobo dude with the metal arm was resting a little ways away under the shade of a tree with Stiles jacket as a pillow- if there ever was a doubt of why they called him pack mom- the rest of the hunters had been assessed and after determining that none of them would die if not taken to a doctor immediately he began gathering the weapons and separating them into piles.

Gun and pistols, all fire power weapons were the further away from the hunters just in case, these ones would be sent to the Argent Patriarch so that he could fix and repurpose them. Knives and white weapons will be sent to Deaton so that the vet could clean them of harmful toxins before being returned to the pack, over the time that Jackson had been back he had found a real calling in metal forging, he mostly sold his creations online and finally all separately stored toxins and poisons would be hoarded by Stiles for future use against enemies.

A little giggle flew by his ear before the forest rustling around him signaled the arrival of the pack, Scott at the head.

Stiles had mostly expected them to crash through the bushes in their haste to take the enemy by surprise (a habit he was working hard to eradicate), he was mostly happy they didn’t.

“Stiles?” there was really no doubt as to what Scott was asking about, even if his best friend and human second was more than capable of taking care of himself, the kind of skill to cause so much damage without receiving some kind of injury was still out of the human’s reach, out of even the wolves’s.

“I know Scott but we should take care of them first” the hunters had not even began to stir after the sound beating they had received but they could not know how long they would remain that way.

“And him?” Scott nodded in the direction of the hobo dude, none of the wolves could miss the way Stiles magic was enveloping the man like a blanket to a small child.

“I- I don’t know Scott” there was tension but not as much as there would have been if this had happened before the Dread Doctors incident “He just jumped in to save me and completely wiped out the hunters, my magic just … it just reached out” 

Derek just huffed and reached down to the man, managing to carry him in the princess carry back the way the rest had come from; Scott rubbed the back of his head as if to ward off a migraine.

“Derek brought the Toyota” it was a tension relieving statement, and really it was better to cater around highly dangerous weapons in a car big enough to hold them.

Spell broken Stiles burst back into his usual flair of activity.

“All right then puppies we have a lot of stuff to do” the rest of the pack had kept their distance out of respect for the three highest ranking members of the pack but now that they were being addressed directly it was time to become involved again “Hayden and Liam start carrying the guns and stuff to the car, keep away from the knives we don’t know if they are contaminated” Mason approached ever willing to help “Mason buddy take the duck tape and start gathering our dear hunters into pretty flowers, Cody honey call Parrish and have him inform my dad then take those canisters back to the Jeep” 

Issac appeared out of nowhere as he usually did, Derek must be training the puppies in the art of giving Stiles a heart attack and waited for something to do.

“Issac I need you running the perimeter, keep the deputies on preserve duty away”

With a gleeful smile Isaac bounded off to cause havoc as always, it was the curly haired blond’s favorite thing to do, keep the deputies away most of the time by scaring them away from their posts; Stiles guessed that it was cathartic after spending so many years afraid of his dad and anyway Isaac never went far or malicious in his ways so the rest left him be.

With a final sigh, Stiles reached for his phone, They couldn’t have the Sheriff arrest this lot on the grounds of kidnapping without looking suspicious so the next best thing was to call Chris Argent to deal with them. Being the resident hunter he would then take them in front of other peers, and with the stunt they had just pulled Stiles imagined that they would get the equivalent of Court Martial in the hunter ranks.

The man was of course more than willing to assist them, he had in the past (and with this lot) ran interference on behalf of the pack to keep the peace between Hunters and Supernatural, for the most part, the Hunter community left them alone but there was always a group of radicals that pulled stunts like this. Honestly, Stiles and the rest were kind of used to it by now.

-x-x-x-

As it was, it was a complete day before anyone had the chance to even remotely relax after the events that had transpired in the day. The Sherif had, of course, provided transport for the Hunter flowers and Parrish had joined Chris in delivering them to the detention center where they would receive their due punishment. The hellhound in him more than happy to see the wrongdoers to justice for endangering one his own.

The hobo dude that saved Stiles had yet to awaken so they had moved him from the Toyota to the Stilinski living room, Derek had to run and deal with some stuff regarding the Hale house and Scott had dismissed the rest of the puppies to their own homes.

Scott draped a blanket over the man before joining his best friend in the kitchen where he was fixing some sort of soup. It was the silence and the furrowed brow that told Scott that Stiles was deep on his own head.

“Stiles…” The boy in question jumped slightly in response but for the most part kept still. A far cry from the uncontrollable flail that had happened persistently for the major part of their lives, the Alpha frowned at this; if Stiles was this controlled it usually meant that there was something truly worrisome in his mind right now.

“What is going on in the labyrinth” Stiles glared at him but said nothing, after a particularly long and confusing string of thoughts had escaped Stiles in front of Parrish, the man had commented that Stiles’s way of thinking was like a labyrinth without a clear exit or entrance, the rest had just taken to the phrase and often used it.

“The arm, it’s not armor and his body” the boys grimaced, after the battle and the following hours it was Derek who had taken care of the man, tending to small scratches and providing a change of clothes from his own closet since he was the only one who had the same body type as their guest. In doing so he had unfortunately discovered the mess of scars on his shoulder that joined the arm and the rest of the body, what they had though to be armor had been an actual arm. A piece of technology that had left them awed and wary. 

Wary that whoever had tortured the man sleeping on the living room couch was still on his heels. Derek had told them in no uncertain terms that the scars that littered his torso were the result of torture, and that his body's ragged state coincided with a man on the run for quite some time. While the hobo dude was muscled in ways even Derek had yet to achieve he still appeared thin, they could see his ribs underneath well-defined pecs and abs, each individual knob of his spine alongside the broad back stood out and his cheeks looked sunken in under the scruffy beard he sported.

Derek had told them to not leave him alone while he woke up but to also keep a measure fo distance and instructed Stiles to began chattering as soon as he was conscious, the man had most likely been treated with long terms of silences and the noise would help him ground himself in the presence of teenagers instead of enemies and of course don't flash eyes or teeth at him. As far they could tell this was a normal human, perhaps a very well trained one but human none the less.

Sometimes they forgot that Derek had been on the run since he was a teenager and had had his fair share of psychopathic torturers on his tail. If someone knew how to deal with this particular strain of trauma it would be their resident sourwolf.

"And if whoever did this to him comes knocking-" the human said finally.

"Then we will deal with them the same way we have dealt with every other threat to one of our own before" Scott said firmly, a slight growl leaking into his voice. Stiles startled at the comment but smiled, Scott was still the overprotective boy he had always been, all too willing to take in the strays that Stiles picked up. Despite not knowing the man the amber-eyed boy's magic had already entwined itself around him and had declared him as one of their own. The pack could probably feel it with the magic thread that united them all and besides Derek had all but declared him under his protection as well if the carefull instructions to his care was anything to go by.

"Yeah, you are right Scott" 

With that final comment, the soldier on the couch finally started to move.

 


	4. The Soldier Boy Woke up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears, I am sorry for the long wait since last time but School has been an epic journey lately and paying the yearly fees have been eating up my time as I work to pay them. As such I have started a small Ko-Fi account to help with the next August-December and some of January Fees, if you could consider helping me out it would be the weight off my shoulders!!! [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A5224NJF) or visit my Patreon https://www.patreon.com/MaFerHQ.  
> Regardless I just want to thank you all for your support!!

Once upon a time, waking up warm and safe had been a given in his life. Before he had been drafted to the war effort, it had been normal to wake up with a skinny body pressed against his; Steve had reluctantly allowed his best friend to sleep in the same bed as him with the excuse to let his mother and siblings have the only bed in their own apartment. In the mornings when Sarah Rogers made her way out of the apartment to her job as a nurse she would pass by both boys and run a hand through Bucky's hair in silent thanks, Steve's lungs were not all that good and the extra heat kept him from falling sick as often as he otherwise would, of course, Steve didn't have to know that.

After years of dragging Mr. Backalley Hero out of dumpsters, the war broke out, at first it looked like the voluntary recruiting was going to leave them safe in their own homes but then it got violent and as the war dragged on the voluntary initiative was not enough to fuel the need for soldiers. Drafting became the norm and Steve could not for the life of him back down when he was rejected that first time. Bucky thought he was safe, he would keep Steve from getting thrown in jail and help his ma raise his little siblings.

His draft letter came in at the worst of times, Sarah Rogers passed away after an unsuccessful battle with tuberculosis. 

He dragged a near hysterical Steve Rogers kicking and screaming back to the apartment _,_ he just needed Steve to  _listen._ Because Bucky had limited time to arrange for his absence, goddammit Rogers was not having it, He screamed and raged for what felt like hours; finally, the brunet had enough he pushed the blonde with enough force to have him land on the couch completely stunned  _Don't you think I know! Of course it's unfair!_ Sarah who had seen his little sister Rebecca successfully beat the sickness that claimed her own life, had she been sick then? Did she die because she was too busy taking care of Rebecca to take care of herself? The medicine was costly and Sarah had been the one to get it with the money Bucky had provided for her, had it been too costly for her to buy some for herself or had she lied and paid for it herself. Steve would have done that, and Steve got everything from his ma.

That had been it, hadn't it? Sarah Rogers had taken a look at Rebecca and then at herself, both sick, and both equally important to their loved ones; but she chose Rebecca. If James was honest with himself he doubted he could have made the same sacrifice,  a bullet he would take gladly for his friend and anyone of his family,  he would die in a flash if it meant they would be safe; but to die of sickness?... she must have suffered, she must have hidden her symptoms so well that they didn't notice until it was too late. 

Why?

"You know why" Steve's voice brought him back to his head, it sounded even more broken and defeated than before. The anger had burned out, in its place there was only sadness and realization "We were breaking our bodies to pay for that medicine" he sunk even lower into the couch were he had landed, defeat didn't look good on him "I in the factories and you...you did whatever it took Buck". James Barnes had done everything he could to bring back enough money for that medicine, but regular work didn't cut it. Steve was right, he had done all it took to make money... even some things he wished he could erase from his head. 

Right around the time Sarah had begun to finally show her symptoms, the hard work of the factories caught up with Steve and the little blonde was bedridden for 2 weeks. She claimed to have the flu and banished her son from her room in an effort to prevent him from getting sick too, they should have known it was a cleverly placed lie to get them both distracted enough that by the time they realized that it was not the flu there was nothing they could do to help her, nothing but to make her comfortable and wait. It was a matter of days.

"Steve"

Their eyes connected across the room.

"I want you to punch me"

Of course Steve refused, but it was never terribly difficult to make him angry enough to throw a punch. He let himself fall backwards with the momentum of it while his best friend stood above him panting and red-faced in anger, that anger was vanishing as quickly as it had come. Bucky reveled in the feeling of heat on his cheek and the burning behind his eyes, finally all the tears that had been kept locked away for the sake of his best friend and his family, they fell like waterfalls down his face. Sobbing broke free and he just couldn't anymore, why had he had to trade one life for another  _it wasn't fair._ Not a moment later another body laid on top of his, his shirt absorbed tears and his chest shook with his own sobs and those of Steve who could not hold any longer than Bucky had. Before he had been angry but now he was heartbroken. They both wailed like newborn infants at the loss of the Angel that had been Sarah Rogers.

Bucky still had to arrange for his absence.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The memory had been one of the longest he had received in a long while, usually things with such emotional weight tended to come to him in snaps and pieces so he had to reconstruct them himself, like a puzzle.

He couldn't quite remember what happened next but he must have talked to Steve about his draft, all he remembered of that last scene was feeling warm after the cold had penetrated his bones at the funeral. 

Warmth like the one he was feeling now.

He was warm and comfortable.

Why? What had he been doing before this? 

Hadn't he helped someone, and then .... what?

_I'm telling you Scotty, Thor could totally beat Superman in a fight._

Voices, young voices were filtering into his head. He had helped a boy, hadn't he?

_Yeah yeah, whatever what I want to know is who would win in a screaming match Lydia or Black Canary?_

Why would anyone hold a screaming match, people were noisy enough on a regular basis.

_Please Scott, there is no contest there. Lydia would wipe the floor with both Black Canary and Silver Banshee at the same time._

Black Canary and Silver Banshee? those sounded like wrestling names, why would wrestlers hold a screaming match?

_JAJAJA, maybe you are right, she would definitely defeat Silver Banshee on principle alone._

Bucky grabbed hold of the voices floating around his head and used them to pull himself back to the world of the conscious, opening his eyes just a sliver he found himself laying sideways in a small living room, in front of him there was a low table and sitting on either side of it were two teenage boys. Both seemed to not notice his awakening and he took advantage of that to study them and take stock of himself. Both teenagers looked like the regular teens he saw often in his rare ventures into cities to resupply, baggy clothes and not a clue of the danger that was so close to them. Threat level: Minimum.

His own body was feeling better than it has ever been, his numerous bruises and barely healed bones didn't ache anymore. The deep set of cold that had been an ever-present constant in his life was gone as well, to say it in simple terms he was... fine.

It has been decades since the last time he felt fine.

Suddenly a loud thump and laughter snapped him out of his own head, apparently the kid he had helped had just leaped over the table and tackled the other one to begin a tickle attack. Slowly he sat up just as the one on the receiving end of the attack reached his breaking point.

"Stiles! Stiles! I yield! I yield!" 

_Stiles?_

"What is a Stiles?" both teens looked over in surprise at his voice, low gravely as usual.

"Oh hey! you are awake, man thanks again for the save back then" the one he saved stood up and started a flurry of activity, keeping up the chatter as he moved. In no time James found himself sitting down on the floor with the other two eating a bowl of soup.

He learned 3 things in that time.

One, the one he saved was a Stiles, his name was "Unrponaunsable polish so I'll save you the headache"

Two, the other one was Scott, "We have been BFF since kinder, the crooked jaw is the result of an incident with a jawbreaker" "Stiles!! Not True"

Three, they appeared to pay no mind to his arm.

It was in plain sight as his own clothes were in the washing machine, they chattered to one another while he slowly ate from the bowl in front of him. Their arms waved as they spoke, specially Stiles' adn the topic jumped from comics to school, to girls to movies and so forth and so on. It was nice. 

He was honestly baffled, the current response to his predicament was unlike anything he had ever done. Training dictated that he asses the situation so he could slip away, leave no trace that he was ever there. Those instincts had kept him away from his pursuers but now they were not present, nothing in him made him want to leave.

"Can it get wet?"

The arm, they were finally talking about the arm, he just nodded.

"Good then, the shower is this way"

Just like last time he found himself complying with whatever the one he saved said, with what Stiles said.

Never once did he feel in danger, not even when the one with the severe eyebrows arrived. "That one is Derek" apparently he was wearing his clothes.

Derek chivied the younger males into behaving more calmly, gave him toiletries and a shaving kit "Feeling clean is important" was all he said, the young man had the same eyes that he saw in his squad so many years ago, eyes that had seen much sorrow.

Perhaps his instincts were correct in shoving his training to the back burner for now, this was ... nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rollercoaster to write, really.  
> I want to thank you all for your patience and faith in my work! 
> 
> [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A5224NJF) or visit my Patreon https://www.patreon.com/MaFerHQ.  
> 


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